


command me to be well

by emersonwrites



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parental Abuse, Physical Abuse, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unrequited Crush, heavy trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and a thwarted attempt, it's not all angst and sad i promise!!, just felt the need to tag any and all triggers but sal comes through in the end, religious trauma, sal comforting travis during a breakdown, this boy can hold so much catholic guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25332880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emersonwrites/pseuds/emersonwrites
Summary: “Travis, it’s me,” came the voice again. It sounded muffled, as if something were blocking the speaker’s mouth. “I’m right here.”His blood ran cold as he recognized that voice. When he glanced in the direction of the house, he saw Sal Fisher standing there with his hands spread in front of him, as if Travis were a scared animal. There was concern in his eyes as his gaze flitted to the knife in his hand for a second. “What’s going on, Travis?” he asked in a calm voice.
Relationships: Sal Fisher & Travis Phelps, Todd Morrison/Neil
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	command me to be well

**Author's Note:**

> hey, so. this one gets heavy--triggers are in the tags so please keep them in mind if you're going to move forward with reading this! if things like suicidal thoughts/attempts, physical and emotional abuse, and parental abuse trigger or upset you, this may not be the right fic for you. take care of yourselves!
> 
> i wrote this about six months ago when i was Having A Time and finally decided to pull the trigger and share it after some friends encouraged me to. thanks for reading this behemoth of a vent piece!
> 
> heavily inspired by the song "Amen" by Amber Run, which you should absolutely listen to if you haven't already, and TikTok user @gigisoftboi who made a couple cosplay videos to this song (check them out!).

“Say it again.”

Pain erupted across the front of Travis Phelps’ face as his father struck him in the nose. Despite the sharp, blinding stab that shot through his sinuses, he bit his tongue and refused to cry out. He wouldn’t give his dad the satisfaction. Clasping his hands before his mouth, he took in a shaky breath, using the pressure between his palms as an anchor to ground himself. Hot blood began to drip down his face. Through gritted teeth he mumbled, “I pray you forgive my transgressions and grant me the strength to abandon my sinful nature.”

His father circled around him as he knelt on the steps leading to the altar. Christ hung on the cross before him, his eyes somber and downcast. Disappointed.

Travis closed his eyes and braced himself. Sure enough, another blow came, this time an open-handed smack to the back of his head. His nose collided with his hands and he grimaced at the jolt it sent through his entire face, but he remained quiet. Blood coated his mouth.

“How long have we struggled with this? Hmm?” his father demanded. There was a deadly calm to his voice that sent a shiver down Travis’ spine. When he didn’t respond, his dad knelt beside him so they were eye level. His glare cut right through Travis. “How long is it going to take you to abandon these sick perversions?”

Travis tightened his grip and said nothing. Replying only made things worse.

“You’re a miserable disgrace,” his father spat, a sneer on his face. “I refuse to let you destroy what I’ve spent my  _ entire life _ building.” He reached out and aggressively grabbed his son’s shoulder, fingers digging in hard. “You will stay here and repent. You will not come upstairs until you feel the Lord is satisfied.” With that, he stood and walked briskly through the far door.

Finally alone, Travis let out a heavy breath. He reached up to gingerly wipe away some blood from his lips but more continued to drip down. It would have to wait for now; he wasn’t at liberty to stand up yet.

A familiar wave of despair began to crash over him. Every day, Travis did everything in his power to serve his Lord in the best way he could, but these wretched thoughts and impulses had plagued him for well over a decade now. He must have spent years on his knees at this point, begging God to help and guide and forgive him, but no reply ever came. How many more times must he plead like this? Hadn’t he already proven his loyalty and devotion?

Rejoining his hands, he stared up at the cross and whispered around the tightness in his throat: “Please, God, I’m begging you. I can’t keep doing this. I’ve tried so many times to fight this sickness in me.” His eyes began to sting and his vision swirled. “I don’t know what else to do. I can’t do this without you, God,  _ please _ .” His hands began to tremble.

Silence followed. The same as always.

Anger and sorrow built up in his chest and a scowl warped his face. His frustration grew and grew the more he recalled all the times he’d tried to force the sinful thoughts from his mind only for them to creep back in, every time. It was as if he were programmed this way and could do nothing to fight it, but that didn’t make sense. Why would God purposefully make him broken? He glared accusingly at Christ. “Why would you make me like this?” he demanded.

The statue remained silent.

Travis’ hands began to shake as a tear fell down his face, mingling with the blood on his mouth. “I thought you didn’t make mistakes,” he said, his voice growing louder. “If you made me this way, why won’t you help me?”

No reply came.

Finally fed up with the quiet, Travis clamped his eyes shut, more tears escaping. “I just want to be better!” he cried out in desperation. “Just tell me what to do! Please!”

He held his breath and waited for a response. Any hint, any sign that there was someone who could hear him.

Nothing.

Realization struck Travis as he bowed his head and sobbed, causing more blood to rush from his nose and drip onto his sweatshirt. He knelt there, broken and in so much pain, and finally understood: he was too far gone. His sins were so overwhelming, even God had cast him aside. He was a lost cause, not worth the time it would take to fix. Not worth the effort it would take to love. The Lord had made His decision.

It was the only explanation. He’d spent too long taking God’s love and grace for granted and now, he would never get it back as long as he lived. If only he’d tried harder, taken this more seriously, then God would have surely shown him the path to redemption.

Maybe deep down, he didn’t want these urges and thoughts to stop. Perhaps he was so thoroughly steeped in sin, he had been self-sabotaging this entire time. He was doomed from the start.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out as he bawled. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He glanced back up at the cross and was met with the disdainful eyes of his Lord. It sent a chill through his entire body.

He truly was alone now.

“Amen,” Travis breathed out of reflex, though he knew it was pointless. Prayer meant nothing now, with no one there to hear it. Still, he felt compelled, as if making a last-ditch effort for attention. “Amen,” he repeated, louder this time.

Nobody responded.

He let out another sob. “Amen.” His voice grew louder with each repetition. “Amen. Amen!”

Christ silently watched him from the cross.

Travis began rocking back and forth, reaching up to hug his own shoulders as if would do anything to keep him from coming apart. “Amen, amen, amen!” he shouted, his calls echoing off the high ceilings of the church.

There was nothing left for him in this place.

“AMEN!!” he screamed.

The sound reverberated through the hall, then faded back to quiet.

Travis folded forward, his chest meeting his knees as he cried. If God had truly abandoned him, he failed to see the point in continuing. His entire purpose was to serve the Lord. The life of an unwanted servant held no value. He was destined for Hell no matter what he did, but he wasn’t convinced that Hell would be any worse than the life he already led. Hell didn’t scare him anymore.

Rising up on shaky legs, Travis stood before the cross, gazing one final time at the Savoir that never came for him. Then he turned and headed for the door, slowly at first, before breaking into a dead sprint. He burst through the doors of the church and into the night as fast as his legs would take him.

It didn’t matter where he went. It didn’t matter who saw him. Before long, nothing would matter to him anymore.

His feet carried him blindly forward, his pulse pounding in his ears. Blood dripped from his chin and his hair clung to the tears by his eyes but he didn’t care. He had one goal in mind and he was determined to execute it before his father noticed he was gone. Now he just had to find a place.

The battery of blows he’d taken to the head quickly caught up with him, forcing him to slow his pace when the world began to spin around him. He trudged forward towards the woods that separated Nockfell from Wendigo Lake and the city beyond that. To his dread, he remembered he would have to pass by Sal Fisher’s house to get there. Already, he could see the house just down the road. Light flooded the front porch; someone was home. Right away he felt the urge to knock on the door. He desperately hoped that Sal would step outside and notice him there. The idea of seeing him made his heart pound with giddy energy.

This was exactly why he deserved what was coming to him.

A fresh wave of tears fell from his eyes as he walked past the house, his heart clenching painfully. Sal wouldn’t bother with him anyway. His years of tormenting the other boy had made sure of that.

Slowly, Travis turned towards the woods that bordered Sal’s home. He entered them without hesitation, weaving through the trees for a few dozen yards until he could barely make out the outline of the house. He found a downed tree and climbed atop it. It seemed as good a place as any.

With a shaky hand, he reached into his jeans and pulled out his pocket knife. Taking a second to inspect it, he remembered the day he got it. His father had gifted it to him on his thirteenth birthday, remarking that he was beginning to enter adulthood. It was one of the few memories he had of his father where he had smiled at him with sincerity. Ever since, he’d carried the knife with him as if it were a talisman that would someday bring his old father back.

It hadn’t worked.

He clicked the button on the side and the blade swung out, shining in the moonlight that drifted down from above the treetops. Immediately, his hands began to tremble. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, revealing his wrists.

This was the only option he had. God had made it clear that there was nothing that could be done to save him. Though he knew this would cement him a spot in Hell, he knew he had no more choices.

So why was he hesitating? Why, when he brought the knife against his skin, did overwhelming panic fill his lungs and steal his breath away? He grit his teeth and pressed the point of the knife down but his body wouldn’t cooperate; his hand instinctively pulled back enough to prevent blood from being drawn.

Again, his own mind was betraying him. Even in the final moments of his life, he was sabotaging himself. Rage blossomed in his chest and Travis threw his head back, letting out a guttural scream into the night sky. He couldn’t even die right. He grabbed at his shirt collar and broke down again, sobbing loudly and crying out in pain and frustration. He couldn’t take any more of this, but he couldn’t bring himself to escape. Maybe his punishment was to continue suffering in this life; maybe he truly was already in Hell.

As he cried, the sound of animals running in fright surrounded him, leaves rustling and branches breaking. He paid the sounds no mind. If one of them felt threatened enough to harm him, he’d do nothing to stop them. At least they’d be able to do what he couldn’t. He brought his face down into his hands and sobbed until he went into hysterics, his lungs struggling to bring in enough air.

If he couldn’t die, then what was he supposed to do now?

“Travis?”

The sound of his name sent a jolt of panic through his heart. Clumsily, he fell down from the tree trunk and spun in frantic circles, searching for the source.

“Travis, it’s me,” came the voice again. It sounded muffled, as if something were blocking the speaker’s mouth. “I’m right here.”

His blood ran cold as he recognized that voice. When he glanced in the direction of the house, he saw Sal Fisher standing there with his hands spread in front of him, as if Travis were a scared animal. There was concern in his eyes as his gaze flitted to the knife in his hand for a second. “What’s going on, Travis?” he asked in a calm voice.

Instinctively, Travis snarled at him, barring his bloody teeth. “None of your fucking business!” he snapped. His mind ran through a hundred different escape scenarios, all of them coming up duds. He was literally backed into a corner, being surrounded on all sides by trees that seemed to be boxing him in. There was no way to get around Sal without getting too close to him.

“Sal?” another voice yelled from the edge of the woods. The sound of sticks breaking could be heard as this second person began heading their way. “What did you find?”

Terror gripped Travis’ heart. It was all over now. Sal would out him, his family would be disgraced, and his father would end his life for him before he’d get the chance to do it himself. He swallowed hard, his breath quickening as anxiety built in his chest. This is where it all ended for him, and not on his own terms.

To his surprise, Sal glanced back over his shoulder and called, “Don’t worry about it, Todd. I’ll meet you back inside.”

“Are you sure?” Todd asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Sal shouted back. “Trust me, alright?”

A moment later, the sound of Todd’s footsteps grew fainter and fainter as he headed back to the house, leaving the two boys alone and Travis reeling with confusion. When it became clear Todd was gone, Sal let out a sigh and turned back to Travis. “What happened to you?” he asked, closing the distance between them. Travis could see the shock in Sal’s eyes as he got closer. “Oh my God, your nose,” he muttered, reaching up to gently touch the bridge of his nose. “How did—”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Travis spat, jerking away from Sal’s touch. His fingers against his skin sent a shiver through his entire body that he despised and loved all at once.

Sal flinched at his words and took a couple steps back. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t broken. God, Travis, you’re  _ covered _ in blood. How did this happen to you?”

“Why do you give a shit?” Travis lashed out. He rubbed some of the blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand, shooting Sal a venomous glare. “Why are you even here?”

“I heard someone screaming.” Sal tilted his head to the side slightly. “Why are  _ you _ here?”

“I already told you it’s none of your business!” he fired back. “Now would you leave me the fuck alone?”

_ So I can die in peace? _

Travis’ breath hitched at the thought of what he was about to do, panic setting in again. His instincts were fighting against him at every turn. They were begging for him to reach out to the man in front of him and ask for his help. What a joke. Tears began to gather on his eyelashes again.

Sal took notice and stepped towards him again until they were only a couple feet apart. “Travis, tell me why you have a knife,” he said in a low voice, holding his stare.

The words stuck in Travis’ throat. He struggled to maintain his composure, attempting to put on a mean expression, but instead his face crumpled. He could tell that Sal knew what he was here to do. The way he was slowly approaching him, keeping a calm tone of voice, and subtly reaching for the knife gave him away.

The wicked, wretched, sinful part of him wanted to give in. It wanted to let Sal rescue him, to take the blade from his hand and pull him close and—

Travis groaned at the intrusive thoughts and impulsively brought the blade to his wrist, making his intentions clear. He had to do this. He’d long since past the point of no return. “Get out of here, Sally Face,” he said, even as his entire body began to shake with fear. He choked on a sob, feeling hot tears fall down his face once more. “Just leave me alone.”

Sal immediately took another step forward, holding his hands out towards him once again. “Travis, listen to me,” he said, urgency in his voice. “I don’t know what happened to you tonight but you don’t want to do this. Whatever you’re going through—”

“ _ Fuck _ you!” Travis shouted, outraged that Sal had the nerve to act like he knew anything at all. “You don’t have a  _ fucking _ clue what’s going on!”

Sal stopped short. “So tell me,” he suggested, lowering his arms slightly.

That caught Travis off-guard. He threw a confused look at Sal, still holding the knife against his skin. “Why would I tell you anything?” he demanded.

“Maybe it’ll make you feel better,” Sal said with a shrug. “Maybe I can help somehow.”

“‘Help’ me?!” Travis repeated with a bitter laugh. If only Sal knew that so much of what was wrong in his life stemmed from him. As if he could ever help him! And besides that, they weren’t friends. “Why would you want to help me?”

“Because you need help,” Sal replied matter-of-factly.

“No I don’t!” Travis argued, despite the way his voice broke and the rivers flowed down from his eyes. His arms began to shake. “I don’t need your help and I don’t need to explain anything to you!”

A moment of quiet passed between the two as Sal seemed to mull over what to say next. Travis waited with bated breath. Secretly, he hoped Sal would stay here, and that disgusted him. He was a perverted sinner, right to the last. He let out a strangled, pathetic noise. “Just leave me alone, Sally Face,” he choked out through his tears. He shook his head helplessly. “I don’t have a choice anymore. This is the only way.”

“What do you mean?” Sal asked.

“God’s abandoned me,” Travis said, defeated. “He refuses to help me because I’m too broken. I’m a lost cause. There’s no point.”

“I don’t believe that.” Sal shook his head fervently. “Not for a second.”

Travis grimaced. “It’s true. No matter how much I pray, or how hard I try, God won’t listen. He’s shunned me because I can’t hide my sinful nature anymore!”

Sal was taken aback by his words. “Travis, whatever it is, you don’t need to hide anything—”

“You’re one to fucking talk!” Travis hollered, suddenly furious at the hypocrisy. He brought the blade away from his skin and used it to point to Sal’s head. “All you  _ do _ is hide behind that fucking mask of yours! Who are you to lecture me on anything?!”

Silence followed as Sal took in his words. The two stood, staring at one another, as if waiting for someone to make the first move before knowing how to proceed. Travis sneered at the other man, full of righteous anger. What made Sal think he had any right to judge him for having secrets? All Sal  _ had _ was secrets. So long as he kept that mask on his face, Travis refused to hear a word from him.

Then, Sal did something that stopped Travis dead in his tracks. Slowly, he reached behind his head with one hand and unbuckled the straps that held his prosthetic in place. Travis watched on in shock as Sal finally lowered the mask. For the very first time, Travis saw his true face.

For years, Travis had run through so many different possibilities for what could be behind the prosthetic; none of them came close to what he saw now. And yet he couldn’t help but still find Sal as beautiful as ever. Despite the scar that raked down from his eye to his dented jaw that split his lips, despite the majority of his nose being gone entirely, despite the litany of angry red lines that peppered his face, he was hauntingly beautiful. Travis could think of no other word to describe it. His heart ached in his chest.

“There,” Sal said, his voice clear for the first time. “I’m not hiding anymore.” He took advantage of Travis being distracted by the sight of him to close the distance between them and easily slip the knife out of his hand. He glanced down long enough to put away the blade and slip it into his pocket, then met Travis’ eyes once more. “Your turn.”

Travis stared at Sal dumbly, unable to speak, his head racing a thousand miles an hour. Anyone who knew Sal knew he  _ never _ removed his prosthetic except around those he considered very close to him, and even then he normally kept it on anyway. This didn’t make sense. The two of them were so diametrically opposed. “I don’t understand,” Travis finally croaked. “You hate me. Why are you doing this?”

Sal’s brow furrowed. “I don’t hate you. I never have. Why would you think that?”

“Because you should,” Travis whispered, his lip quivering. He didn’t deserve to see Sal like this. “There’s no way you don’t. Not after everything I’ve done.”

Shaking his head, Sal offered Travis a small smile, the first he’d ever seen. “I knew you were struggling with something growing up, so I didn’t take your bullying too personally.” He gestured to his mask, which he’d fastened to a belt loop to keep his hands free. “I get it, I was an easy target.”

Everything was backwards. Sal shouldn’t be offering Travis any kindness, or even any of his time. He was a monstrous being who couldn’t do anything right. Feeling himself starting to spiral again, he reached up and tangled his fingers in his hair. Tears blurred his vision once more. “None of this is right,” he whimpered. “Everything is wrong.  _ I’m _ all wrong. You can’t help me, not even God will anymore!”

“Travis, you need to breathe,” Sal said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “Here, come with me, we should get your face cleaned up at least.”

His heart soared and bottomed out all at once. The man he’d pined after for so, so long was touching him, helping him. Smiling at him. He was so giddy it made him lightheaded. The nervousness in his belly filled him with despair. Nothing he could do would make these feelings and urges go away, he understood that now. Even in the most dire moments of his life—what was supposed to be the end of his life—he found himself starry-eyed looking at Sal, dying to give into his desires and follow Sal anywhere. He was truly hopeless. Overwhelmed, he bowed his head, burying his face in his hands. He had no idea what he was supposed to do.

“Come on, follow me,” Sal said in a soft voice. He moved to stand next to Travis, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and slowly guiding him out of the forest.

Travis’ heartbeat stuttered at Sal’s touch. For someone so slender, he seemed strong and capable. He felt nice.

Too weak to fight at this point, he let Sal lead him back to his house. When they reached the front porch, Todd and Neil were waiting on the steps. Both leapt to their feet at the sight of them, shock plain on their faces. “What happened?!” Neil asked as Todd raced forward, meeting them halfway.

“Everything’s alright,” Sal said in an even tone, though Travis caught the meaningful stare he threw Todd’s way, a look that conveyed the gravity of what was going on. “Travis had a rough night. His nose might be broken.”

A grave look came over Todd’s face as he seemed to put the pieces together in his mind. With a silent nod, he rushed back up the steps. He and Neil shared another serious look before they both went inside, Neil holding the door open so Travis and Sal could walk through. Todd filled a plastic bag with ice cubes, handing it to Sal as they walked past and towards the bathroom. “Thanks, Todd. We’ll be right back,” he said, briefly touching his friend’s shoulder to reassure him.

Travis remained silent, staring blankly at the floor. His entire body felt numb. He felt like he’d been scooped out and thrown away. Only dread remained now as he considered how he was supposed to move forward from here. He couldn’t go home—he’d been gone too long, his father surely would have noticed by now. It was only a matter of time before he went searching for him. So where could he go? How was he supposed to face tomorrow at all? Part of him resented having been saved while another part felt relieved. He hated feeling so constantly torn in two like this. It was exhausting.

Sal led Travis into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind them. He grabbed a washcloth and ran warm water over it. As he did, Travis caught sight of himself in the mirror and winced at what he saw. His eye was a deep purple and his nose was swollen. The bottom half of his face was smeared with blood, tear tracks having cut pink trails through it. His eyes were red and puffy. He looked pathetic.

Turning to face him, Sal used one hand to gently hold the side of Travis’ face, keeping his head in place. He brought the washcloth up and gingerly wiped away the blood coating his mouth, taking extra care around his nostrils so as not to hurt him.

Travis felt as if he was going to burst. The way Sal’s brow furrowed in concentration, how his lips pressed together as he focused, how his impossibly bright blue eyes scanned his face, the softness of his hand against his cheek—it was too much. He was incredible. There was no way to deny how he felt anymore.

This was going to kill him.

“So you told me to stop hiding earlier,” Sal said as he worked. “And I did. Now you see what I’ve been keeping hidden all these years.” He glanced up to meet Travis’ stare. “It’s your turn now.”

Fear gripped his heart. There was no way he could admit it out loud. The most he’d ever done was write about it in a journal but that’s what had gotten him into this mess in the first place, when his father had found it. Travis shook his head with a frown, but he said nothing. He couldn’t think of what to say.

“Why not?” Sal asked.

“I can’t. It makes it real.” His voice sounded hollow.

“It’s already real, Travis.” Sal pulled his hands away and set the bloody cloth down in the sink. “My scars don’t go away when I put my prosthetic on.”

Travis was tongue tied. Any words he wanted to say died in his throat. He felt like screaming.

Sal handed Travis the ice pack and gestured out of the room, pointing to the couch. Travis mindlessly followed him, sitting beside him on the sofa. He brought the ice up to his nose, hissing in pain at the sting it sent through his forehead. Todd and Neil were standing in the kitchen, quietly talking between themselves. Sal waved them over with a calm, confident look on his face. Travis marveled at how in control he appeared.

Todd sat on the opposite end of the couch. “How are you holding up, Travis?” There was genuine concern in his voice that surprised him. While he hadn’t been as harsh to Todd growing up, he certainly hadn’t been kind either.

“Doesn’t seem like his nose is broken after all,” Sal answered for him.

“Good,” Neil responded, coming to sit on the armrest of the sofa behind Todd.

Travis finally had enough of the niceties. He grimaced and pointed to each of them. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled. “You have no reason to be this nice to me. You should be shunning me right now…” He shook his head in confusion. “Why are all of you being so…”

Todd clasped his hands and leaned forward, fixing Travis with his stare. “You very clearly needed help tonight. That’s more important than petty high school squabbles.”

“But I don’t…” He trailed off, not sure how to verbalize his feelings anymore.

“We’re giving you the help we wish someone would have given us when we needed it,” Neil chimed in. Todd nodded in agreement.

Travis threw the two men a perplexed look. What did Neil mean by that?

Sal took in a deep breath and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. “Travis, I’m going to level with you. I’m hesitant to leave you alone right now.”

A wave of shame fell over Travis. He wouldn’t be in this mess if he’d had the stomach to do what needed to be done. He should just sneak out at the first chance he got and— “You still have my pocketknife,” he blurted out before he could think better of it.

“Yes,” Sal replied simply.

“Give it back.”

“No.”

“You can’t just steal it from me,” Travis bit out. His throat felt tight. He glanced nervously at the three of them, feeling cornered and surrounded.

“I’m not stealing it,” Sal explained. “I’ll give it back when I’m sure you won’t hurt yourself with it.”

“It’s none of your damn business what I do with it.”

“You’re right,” Sal said with a shrug. “Then I guess I’m just a nosy asshole, but that’s fine with me.”

“You don’t even have a—” Travis cut himself off, horrified with what he’d almost just said out loud. He clamped his mouth shut and stared wide-eyed at the carpet in humiliation. He could see Sal frown but say nothing from the corner of his eye.

Why was he like this? His first instinct was to always hurt those around him. Where did that urge even come from?

Todd scowled and leaned back, his chest swelling with anger. “You don’t get to—”

“It’s fine,” Sal cut in, his voice sharper than normal. He threw a sarcastic smile at Travis. “He’s right,” he said sardonically, “it’s hard to be nosy without a nose.”

“I…” Travis trailed off, wetting his lips nervously.

“You’re lashing out,” Sal went on, staring intently at Travis. “You’ve always done that. There’s something that’s been eating away at you, all your life. And rather than address it, you let it fester until you can’t keep it in anymore, and you take it out on everyone around you. Where has that gotten you?”

“You don’t understand,” Travis said, his voice quiet. “I can’t let it be real. It’s  _ wrong _ . As long as I’m like this, God won’t ever love me.”

“As long as you’re like what?” Sal prodded.

“Stop trying to make me say it!” Travis barked, reaching up to hug himself. This entire conversation made him feel like unravelling at the seams.

A moment of silence passed before Neil tapped Todd on the shoulder and stood from the couch. “We’re going to give you two some space to breathe,” he said before exchanging a very meaningful look with Sal, who simply nodded in response. The two men headed up the stairs, leaving Travis and Sal alone again.

It did nothing to calm Travis. If anything, he felt Sal’s stare on him more directly now. He squirmed under his gaze. “What do you want from me, Sally Face?” he groaned, glaring at him in response.

“I want you to be honest,” he responded.

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Travis spat back. “So you took your mask off once. The second I leave, you’re gonna put it right back on and go back to hiding. You’ve got no right to lecture me on honesty.”

Sal shook his head, reaching up to push some hair out of his face. Travis caught a glimpse of his right eye and noticed it looked slightly different than his left. “That’s where you’re wrong. Just because I wear a prosthetic doesn’t mean I’m acting like I’m not disfigured. I’m fully aware of it, every day of my life. I’m just selective about who I let see this part of me.”

“How does that make you any less of a liar?” Travis asked, quickly becoming confused.

“You don’t have to let the entire world know everything there is to know about you,” Sal went on. He unfastened the mask from his belt loop and turned it around in his hands, fidgeting with it as he spoke. “You can choose who you share certain things with. But you need to be honest with yourself about it, no matter what.” A somber look crossed his face as he stared down at the prosthetic. “You can’t just act like it’s not there.”

Travis blinked slowly, absorbing everything Sal had just said. It was true that for as long as Travis knew this part of him existed, it had done nothing but hurt him. But was it because the trait itself was harmful, or because he refused to acknowledge it was there? Had he been getting it backwards this entire time? That couldn’t have been right, though--his father had been very clear about God’s will on this. “It’s not the same for me,” he muttered, grimacing. “I can’t be like this. It’s not what God wants.”

Sal stared so intently at him, Travis couldn’t look away if he wanted to. “Are you sure it’s not just what your father doesn’t want?”

Taken aback, Travis flinched. “It’s in the Bible,” he argued.

“Yeah,” Sal said with a chuckle, “so are a lot of things that people don’t listen to anymore.”

“This is different,” Travis said, though his brow furrowed as he said that.

“How?”

He couldn't answer that. An entire lifetime of sermons and prayer and Bible study had ingrained these beliefs in him so deeply, he never thought to challenge them. It would be like questioning the color of grass. But if what he had been taught wasn’t true, why did his father insist on it so fervently? Nothing was adding up.

Had he really spent half of his life battling against something he had no need to fight?

The idea of so much time having been needlessly wasted—so much unnecessary self-hatred, the countless bruises and nights spent crying himself to sleep—made his hands tremble in his lap. Still, he hesitated. He couldn’t feel sure of anything right now. “So how do I know what’s right?” he asked quietly.

“Do what makes you happy,” Sal responded with a faint smile. “As long as it isn’t hurting you or anyone else. Just live your life in a way that makes you feel good about yourself, and about being alive.”

There was no way Travis could do that the way he lived now. The way he saw it, he had two options:

To openly acknowledge this part of himself, or die.

Sitting here now, he found he no longer wanted to die. He was still terrified of the idea of facing his father again, and unsure of where he’d go from here, but the urge to fade to black was gone.

Opening his mouth, Travis turned towards Sal but refused to look him in the eye. “What if being happy meant acknowledging something...but not knowing how to do it?” he asked softly.

Sal shrugged. “The easiest way to do that is just say it out loud.”

“But then it’ll be real.”

“It already is,” Sal reminded him.

_ It’s already real. _ That thought resonated in his mind over and over again. No matter how many times he prayed and repented, this part of him had never gone away. It wasn’t something that could be changed or erased.

What would it feel like to allow it to come to light?

“What if I—” He stopped short, the truth on the tip of his tongue. His eyes began to water again. The idea of no longer having to hide was overwhelming to him. He craved it. He was so close to it. “What if I said…”

Sal waited patiently.

Travis clasped his hands in his lap, pressing his palms together like before. “What if I was gay?” he finally choked out. Immediately he braced himself, waiting for Sal to laugh at him or insult him.

“What if you were?” Sal replied nonchalantly.

His mind went blank for a moment. He glanced up to see Sal smiling kindly at him. “What?” was all he could think to say.

“Does the idea of being with a man make you happy?” Sal asked.

Right away, his thoughts went to Sal’s hand against his jaw earlier as he gently cleaned the blood from his face. He recalled the way it made his heart skip a beat. Even now, he felt the urge to touch Sal’s hand, to weave their fingers together. His eyes darted down to his lips for a split second and he felt heat rise up his cheeks when he wondered how they would feel. “Yes,” he finally whispered.

“Then don’t fight it anymore, Travis,” Sal responded. “It’s not something you have to tell the whole world about if you don’t want to. Take your time with it. But  _ you _ need to accept that it’s part of who you are.”

Sal’s words lifted an immeasurable weight from his chest and Travis literally gasped as if he were breathing for the first time. Tears fell from his eyes again as relief filled his heart. He’d finally spoken it into the world. It existed somewhere outside of him now. Someone else carried the burden of knowing the truth other than him. He never knew he could feel this light.

Something occurred to him as he considered how calm Sal was in response to his confession. For as homophobic as Travis had been over the years, he expected Sal to be more surprised by this. Why was there no hint of shock on his face? He had reacted so calmly, almost as if… “You knew,” Travis muttered, staring at Sal in disbelief. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

A sheepish smile spread across Sal’s lips. “I might’ve guessed.”

“How?”

Sal laughed. “You had every opportunity to make fun of me for being disfigured, and instead you just bullied me for supposedly being gay.” He threw Travis a wry grin. “I put the pieces together after a while.”

A pit formed in Travis’ stomach. The way Sal was looking at him, it felt like there was something else he knew, and he had a good idea of what it was. He pressed his lips together and wrung his hands. “Then…” he mumbled, anxiety closing his throat. “Then did you also figure out...that I…” His heart thudded loudly in his chest and his mouth felt dry.

There was a long pause before Sal finally nodded.

Travis’ face burned with embarrassment. Of course he knew. Travis had planned to take that secret to his grave, fully aware his feelings would never be returned. There was a bit of relief in it now being in the open, but his heart still clenched painfully. “I know you don’t feel the same way,” he said in a thin voice. “I made my peace with that a long time ago.”

Sal smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, man. I really am.” He seemed genuinely remorseful, and it did ease some of the ache in Travis’ chest.

“Then why help me?” he asked again. He gave Sal an incredulous look. “You’ve known... _ all this time _ ...you should have just left me there in the woods the second you recognized me.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand why you’d help me. I don’t deserve it from you.”

“I’ll tell you what you don’t deserve, Travis,” Sal replied, pointing behind his shoulder towards the forest. “ _ Nobody _ deserves to die alone in the woods because of who they are. Whatever happened when we were kids, it doesn’t matter. I can’t stand by and let that happen.”

Travis swallowed thickly. “You’re too forgiving.”

Sal gave a shrug. “I can live with that.”

The moment was cut short by the sound of a loud knock at the door. Immediately, terror gripped Travis’ heart. He didn’t dare turn around to see who was there, already knowing in his heart who it was. He glanced up at Sal to see worry on his face as he looked towards the door. A moment later, Neil and Todd came down the stairs, stopping on the bottom two steps. “That isn’t Larry, is it?” Todd asked.

Sal shook his head. “He would have texted me first.” He looked to Travis and the two shared a look that said they both knew who was at the door. Sal pulled Travis to his feet and held him by the shoulder as the knock came again, louder this time. “What do you want to do?” he asked.

Travis shook his head frantically. “He can’t know I was ever here.”

Sal nodded and pointed to the nearest door. “Go in my room for now. I’ll be back.” With that, he put the prosthetic back on his face and headed for the door. Travis ducked into his room and hid beside the doorway, keeping the door open so he could hear. He pressed his body against the wall, willing himself to turn invisible. If his father found out he was here, it would be entirely over for him.

He could hear Sal open the front door and did his best to keep his breathing quiet, his quaking hands gripping the front of his hoodie. “Hello, Pastor Phelps,” Sal said in a calm voice. “Can I help you?”

“Good evening, Sal,” came the sound of his father’s voice. Travis gulped. His dad sounded collected and polite, but he could hear the fury that was bubbling just below. “I wanted to know if you had seen Travis lately? He left earlier this evening and doesn’t appear to have his phone with him. I’ve searched everywhere, it seems.”

The way his father feigned concern made Travis’ stomach turn.

“Sorry, I haven’t seen him,” Sal replied. “I hope he’s alright, though. I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for him.”

There was a heavy pause and Travis bit down on his lip. His father wasn’t buying it. “You’re sure you haven’t seen him around?” he asked, his voice lowering in pitch.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Sal responded coolly. “Why do you ask?” There was a slight edge to his voice now.

“No reason,” his father responded. “Tell me, you and Travis were in the same grade in school, weren’t you?”

“We were,” Sal said.

“Maybe you know the sort of place he would go when he’s upset?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t. We don’t know each other well.” Sal paused for a moment. “Why would he be upset? Did something happen?”

Travis was floored. Sal was challenging his father. Was he insane?!

“That’s none of your concern,” his dad bit out, his tone clipped. “Why ask? Are you concerned about him? I thought you two weren’t close, as you just said.”

Just as his panic began to shoot through the roof, Travis heard another set of footsteps enter the room from by the stairs. “Evening, Pastor Phelps,” came Neil’s voice, cool and confident as ever. “Something we can help you with?”

There was a pregnant pause, followed by another set of footsteps coming down the stairs as Todd joined Neil in the kitchen. “Is everything alright?” he asked, clearly playing clueless by his tone of voice.

“No, no, everything is fine,” Travis’ father grumbled, that sickly sweet tone returning. “Sorry for disturbing you so late at night. I do hope you’ll let me know if you see him, Sal.”

“Of course,” Sal said. “Have a good night, Pastor.” His words carried a tone of finality with them. It was clear Sal wasn’t going to let him speak any further. Travis could only imagine the look on his father’s face right now; disrespect was something he never tolerated. Had that been Travis, fists would have already started flying.

After one more excruciating pause, Travis heard the front door close and lock. Footsteps approached and someone appeared by the doorway. “Stay there for a moment,” came Todd’s voice. “It appears your father is taking his time leaving.”

Ice ran through Travis’ veins. “What’s he doing?” he whispered.

“Sal says he’s lingering in the front yard. He’s walking away but very slowly and he keeps glancing around. He seems to strongly suspect you are here.”

“I don’t know why,” Travis said honestly. “I’ve never talked about you three to him.”

“It could just be that he already has a predisposition against me and Neil.” Todd said that without a hint of bitterness, which surprised Travis. He said it as if it were a given. Was that really how other people viewed his family?

A couple minutes of quiet passed. Todd walked over to Sal and Travis could faintly hear them talking, but couldn’t make out their words. He laid his head back against the wall and loosened his grip on the front of his sweatshirt, breathing deep and slow in an attempt to calm his racing heart. He knew he had to come up with a plan for how to handle returning home, but for the moment, he needed to relax. He’d been emotionally running at top speed for what felt like hours now.

Finally, another figure appeared in the doorway. Travis glanced over to find Sal there. “He finally left,” he said, “but he definitely seems convinced you’re here.” Then he gestured for Travis to follow him out of the room and to the couch. Sal perched atop the armrest, while Neil and Todd stood by the stairs. “Alright. What happens now?”

Travis frowned as he considered what to do next. “I don’t know,” he admitted, crossing his arms and leaning his back against the wall. “I’ve never run from home like this before. I have no idea if waiting to go back is going to let him cool off or just give him more time to be angry.”

Sal nodded. “Well, we talked it over and if you need somewhere to stay for the night, you’re welcome to crash here,” he said.

Surprised, Travis glanced around at the three men. None of them gave the impression that they were against the idea. While he was loathe to take them up on it, he let out a sigh and nodded his head. He knew going back now was stupid. He’d take his chances on waiting a few hours, hoping it would give his father the chance to cool down. Still, he felt guilty for putting the three of them in this position at all. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor.

“No need,” Sal responded, then turning his attention to his roommates. “I’ll take care of setting the couch up. Thank you guys for helping.”

“You’ve got it, Salio,” Neil said with a warm smile. He turned to Travis. “Know you’re safe here. He can’t hurt you.”

That hit Travis where he lived and nearly took the air out of him. This still felt wrong. He’d bullied these people for years and here they were, offering their home to him as a safe haven. He watched Neil and Todd both head for the stairs and his chest suddenly felt full of words. Reaching a hand out, he called after them: “Wait a second!”

All three men stopped short, turning their gaze on him. “I’m sorry,” Travis said with sincerity. “For everything. I…” He balled his hands into fists. “I shouldn’t have been so cruel to you. I don’t deserve your help, but...but thank you for giving it anyway. All of you. I’m sorry.”

Todd and Neil both smiled at him before heading up the stairs for the night. Travis could see in Sal’s eyes that he was grinning as well. “Thanks for saying that, Travis.”

“I mean it,” Travis said, looking away from him. “Especially to you.”

“I believe you.” Sal said as he started grabbing a blanket and pillows from under the TV. Travis watched awkwardly, feeling odd about just standing there while Sal set up the sofa for him but not sure what to do with himself instead. He glanced down at his hoodie, noticing the dried blood that covered the front of it and wincing. Carefully, he slipped his arms inside and pulled the sweatshirt off, making sure not to touch the bloody spot and folding it so it wouldn’t get on anything else. Thankfully, the t-shirt he wore underneath had been spared.

Sal finished with the couch and looked over to the kitchen. “It’s only about 8:30,” he noted. “I haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

Travis shook his head, only now noticing how hungry he was.

“I was just gonna heat up a pizza. Want some?”

He nodded, setting his hoodie on the side table. Silence fell over them but Travis was surprised at how comfortable it was. Sal was a soothing person to be around, someone who didn’t need to fill the quiet to be pleasant to be around. For the first time in a long time, Travis felt himself starting to relax. He leaned against the back of the couch and bowed his head, closing his eyes for a moment and just enjoying the serenity. It was never like this at home—there was always an air of tension, like the calm would break at any moment.

The two remained in amicable silence for a while. Travis’ mind began to wander to what he should do moving forward. After tonight, it was clear he had to leave his family home and live elsewhere. That decision wasn’t going to be taken well by his father, so part of him considered if he’d have to keep this plan a secret. Above all, he’d have to make sure he kept the location of his new place to himself to prevent his dad from visiting unexpectedly. Perhaps that meant he would have to leave Nockfell altogether. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Whatever he did next, he’d have to act fast, before his father sunk his claws into him any further. He was going to savor this last night of reprieve and walk into the next day ready to fight.

After placing the pizza in the oven, Sal joined Travis in leaning against the sofa. “Holding up alright?”

“Yeah,” Travis said, reaching up to gently touch his nose. It no longer hurt as much, thankfully, and it seemed the swelling was going away as well. His black eye would linger for a few days but he’d dealt with those enough times over the years.

“I’m sorry he does that to you,” Sal said, a hint of sorrow in his voice. “It must be hard having him as a father.”

Travis shrugged, his expression darkening. “He wasn’t always like this, but I’m not sure if the dad I had as a little kid was even real at this point.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Hard to know.”

Glancing over to Sal, Travis raised a brow at him. “What’s your dad like?”

“He’s good these days,” Sal responded. “We get along pretty well. It was rough for a while, right after my mom died. He drank a lot. But he’s sobered up since moving here, and Lisa has been really good for him.”

Travis simply nodded in response, mulling over what a healthy relationship with his own father would look like. The sad part was, he struggled to imagine it. Resentment brewed in his heart; he felt like he was being robbed of something most people got to have.

Another comfortable silence fell over the two. Sal briefly stepped into the bathroom for a moment, leaving Travis truly alone with his thoughts for the first time since being found. The one thing he still pondered was where God fit into all this. There were so many questions spinning in his mind. All his life, his father had been so adamantly against the “gay lifestyle,” as he called it, that he’d taken it at face value and never thought to question it. But maybe his dad had misinterpreted what the Bible said on homosexuality. After all, God was supposed to love all His children, and He was also all-powerful and made no mistakes. How could it be possible for God to have made him this way knowing it was unforgivable? If that were true, he’d have been damned since the day he was born. That didn’t sound like his God.

Could that be why God hadn’t listened to his pleas? What if God had refused to change him because there was nothing wrong with him in the first place? The thought filled Travis with so much hope and relief that he felt like crying again. He blinked rapidly, trying to dry his eyes. He’d had enough breakdowns for one day.

To think he’d almost died over this. Travis shivered at the thought of what he’d almost done earlier that night.

The sound of Sal walking back into the room pulled him back into reality. He watched Sal as he took the pizza from the oven and felt a tightness around his heart. Despite how he had hesitated at first, Travis was sure that if Sal hadn’t found him, he would have eventually followed through with his plan. Without question, Sal had saved his life tonight. It was surreal to think that he should be dead right now, and instead he was watching the boy he’d spent all of high school bullying cut a pizza for the two of them.

Thank God Sal had found him.


End file.
